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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Улисс
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- Стр. 150/821
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But
they
must
breed
a
devil
of
a
lot
of
maggots
.
Soil
must
be
simply
swirling
with
them
.
Your
head
it
simply
swurls
.
Those
pretty
little
seaside
gurls
.
He
looks
cheerful
enough
over
it
.
Gives
him
a
sense
of
power
seeing
all
the
others
go
under
first
.
Wonder
how
he
looks
at
life
.
Cracking
his
jokes
too
:
warms
the
cockles
of
his
heart
.
The
one
about
the
bulletin
.
Spurgeon
went
to
heaven
4
a
.
m
.
this
morning
.
11
p
.
m
.
(
closing
time
)
.
Not
arrived
yet
.
Peter
.
The
dead
themselves
the
men
anyhow
would
like
to
hear
an
odd
joke
or
the
women
to
know
what
’
s
in
fashion
.
A
juicy
pear
or
ladies
’
punch
,
hot
,
strong
and
sweet
.
Keep
out
the
damp
.
You
must
laugh
sometimes
so
better
do
it
that
way
.
Gravediggers
in
Hamlet
.
Shows
the
profound
knowledge
of
the
human
heart
.
Daren
’
t
joke
about
the
dead
for
two
years
at
least
.
De
mortuis
nil
nisi
prius
.
Go
out
of
mourning
first
.
Hard
to
imagine
his
funeral
.
Seems
a
sort
of
a
joke
.
Read
your
own
obituary
notice
they
say
you
live
longer
.
Gives
you
second
wind
.
New
lease
of
life
.
—
How
many
have
you
for
tomorrow
?
the
caretaker
asked
.
—
Two
,
Corny
Kelleher
said
.
Half
ten
and
eleven
.
The
caretaker
put
the
papers
in
his
pocket
.
The
barrow
had
ceased
to
trundle
.
The
mourners
split
and
moved
to
each
side
of
the
hole
,
stepping
with
care
round
the
graves
.
The
gravediggers
bore
the
coffin
and
set
its
nose
on
the
brink
,
looping
the
bands
round
it
.
Burying
him
.
We
come
to
bury
Cæsar
.
His
ides
of
March
or
June
.
He
doesn
’
t
know
who
is
here
nor
care
.
Now
who
is
that
lankylooking
galoot
over
there
in
the
macintosh
?
Now
who
is
he
I
’
d
like
to
know
?
Now
I
’
d
give
a
trifle
to
know
who
he
is
.
Always
someone
turns
up
you
never
dreamt
of
.
A
fellow
could
live
on
his
lonesome
all
his
life
.
Yes
,
he
could
.
Still
he
’
d
have
to
get
someone
to
sod
him
after
he
died
though
he
could
dig
his
own
grave
.
We
all
do
.
Only
man
buries
.
No
,
ants
too
.
First
thing
strikes
anybody
.
Bury
the
dead
.
Say
Robinson
Crusoe
was
true
to
life
.
Well
then
Friday
buried
him
.
Every
Friday
buries
a
Thursday
if
you
come
to
look
at
it
.
O
,
poor
Robinson
Crusoe
!
How
could
you
possibly
do
so
?
Poor
Dignam
!
His
last
lie
on
the
earth
in
his
box
.
When
you
think
of
them
all
it
does
seem
a
waste
of
wood
.
All
gnawed
through
.
They
could
invent
a
handsome
bier
with
a
kind
of
panel
sliding
,
let
it
down
that
way
.
Ay
but
they
might
object
to
be
buried
out
of
another
fellow
’
s
.
They
’
re
so
particular
.
Lay
me
in
my
native
earth
.
Bit
of
clay
from
the
holy
land
.
Only
a
mother
and
deadborn
child
ever
buried
in
the
one
coffin
.
I
see
what
it
means
.
I
see
.
To
protect
him
as
long
as
possible
even
in
the
earth
.
The
Irishman
’
s
house
is
his
coffin
.
Embalming
in
catacombs
,
mummies
the
same
idea
.
